Ties to Bind
by Fuu43
Summary: CHAP 2 UP! Kenshin tries to resolve a violent past. However, things are not always as simple as they seem. Contains KK and some AM and MS.
1. A Change of Scenery

Author's Note: I've had this idea in my head a long time. This is a 'reincarnation' story, with a lot of angst and romance on the side. I could have let you folks figure that out yourselves, but it's pretty obvious. However, it should be noted that neither lives the characters lead are set in the original Kenshin-world. This is total AU. It might also at times be a bit 'lighter' than my other stories going on right now…It isn't completely mapped out yet, so I'm not sure where it's going to go. However, I'm not going to lie- It's probably going to be violent and mature and so forth- even if it is 'lighter' at other parts. So be warned. What can I do, right? The characters must be written! Give me your feedback!

SIDE NOTE- If anyone's interested, another story I've been writing, Caged, was nominated for an award over at the Rurouni Kenshin Reader's Choice Awards. This place has some awesome writing! So go, read, vote, nominate, and enjoy! http://rkrc.meijitales. com

* * *

Rating R

Disclaimer- I do not own these characters…unfortunately.

Ties to Bind

A Change of Scenery

_

* * *

His head pounded, his feet ached, and he frantically blinked to clear the blood that ran into his eyes. It matted his hair, skin, and clothes, and covered him in a dirty film. He could feel it on his scalp, under his nails, and at the bottom of his boots. The stench of it clung to his skin, hung in the air, saturated everything in sight. Pools and rivers of it littered the crumbling stone floor beneath his leather boots, and as he ran the blood stains and spills glittered and glared menacingly._

_He didn't flinch at the sight, didn't stop as he passed the bodies whose blood had been spilled and lives had been ended. Many of them were friends, acquaintances, and the blood he splashed through was theirs. He didn't think about it, the notion seemed far away as he turned corners and ran through chambers and corridors. _

_He had already passed through the burning village, where the peasants had either fled or perished. Those objects not ablaze had either been carried away or abandoned by their owners. Overturned carts, wagons, and market stalls were trampled and ransacked, the prized possessions now littering the way like trash. The flames had spread quickly among the small buildings, a haze of smoke so thick above the fire that he'd spotted it while still far away. It had burned at his eyes and throat, and he'd been forced to draw up his sleeve in an attempt to breathe cleaner air. _

_He'd already struggled through the royal stables too, picking his way over dead horses and stable hands. Most were young apprentices, and they had tried to move the animals when the fire had broken out in the village. The gate to the royal pasture lands was flung open, but only a few stalls had been emptied. Both human and horse blood soaked through the straw-covered floor to the dirt one beneath. He'd gone through other halls and rooms as well, each one with its own set of corpses strewn about. _

_Now he passed through what had been the emergency medical care for soldiers, flying by pallets whose patients were too still to be alive. Mingled among them were others who were the cause of his rampaging rage, but as corpses their dark green uniforms meant nothing to him. It was here that they'd met little resistance. The healers whose magic was vital in any battle lay scattered among the soldiers, unarmed they had been quickly slain by their enemies. The man passed a healer he had known for most of his life, her dark hair spread over the injured man she had been protecting. Running past their unmoving forms, he barely took in the sight of them before he had traveled into the next room. If he paused long over all the dead he had seen and known he'd never reach his destination._

_He ran by a wide window, and as he sprinted through the lingering rays of sunlight, the stillness outside barely registered to him. The fight was over, and if he'd looked past the burning village a field of corpses would have greeted him. The halls were quiet; the bulk of the fighting had been over when he'd arrived. He'd rushed into the remnants though, killing every last person who'd stood in his way. He hadn't even stopped to see if they'd been on his side or not. It hadn't mattered, and it still didn't matter. _

_He turned another sharp corner and jumped over the bodies that lay sprawled across the threshold. Not looking over his shoulder, he'd still recognized them both. One had been a maid, a young woman who had been filled with laughter and had always made his lady smile whenever she was in a bad mood. The other had been in green, and he too had always worn a smile. But unlike the woman, his smile while living had never quite reached his eyes. He streaked past them, disregarding their positions. Whatever had happened between the two, it was over- neither would move again. _

_Starting up the stairs that led to the living quarters, he encountered more fallen soldiers, nobles, and servants. Nearly slipping on the blood soaked stairs more than once, he still did not slow his pace or halt his movements. In the hauntingly quiet castle his breathing was loud, shallow, and tinged with a desperation he could taste at the back of his throat. He was afraid, so terrified that he could barely breath. The heavy traces of magic-use that coated everything made him feel all the more distressed. It made his own magic tingle and thump and race below his skin, snarling and wanting to lash out at everything. Jumping up the last stair, he paused at the amount of bodies that littered the entryway. Green stood out in sharp relief, the bodies of his enemies practically stacked on one another in the tight space. One body in black slouched in the far corner, his lady's captain of the guard, and his black hair hung heavily over his face. He had been dead for awhile. _

_The doors to her chamber were shut, and he pushed bodies away to get closer. The wood was stained from the battle, and there were several large chips from where multiple weapons had made contact. Blood coated his hands, making his grip tenuous, and he re-sheathed his sword to work more quickly. Wrenching it open with fingers that were shaky, he felt his heart shudder violently, worried about what he might find. _

_The sight made him pause. _

_The entry room was immaculate. A sitting space used to receive guests, heavy elaborate wall hangings and rugs in pinks and plums decorated the space. The matching furniture was sturdy but dainty, perfectly made for a lady to lounge in. No blood splattered the walls, no bodies littered the floors. He paused, amazed that it lay untouched, wondering just what had happened in there._

_Setting his jaw he walked to the next room, noting with trepidation that the door was slightly ajar. His footsteps were heavy clunks, the chain mail and armor pieces he wore making him suddenly feel slow and bulky. The man had hurried the entire way there, from the wall, to the stable, to the entry hall, and all through the rooms. Now he was stiff, lethargic, and each step seemed to take hours instead of moments. He wiped the blood on his forehead once more away with the back of his gloved hand, a futile effort, and shoved the soaked strands of his hair back. _

_Pushing the heavy wooden door open, his gaze frantically flew over the bedroom. Like the other room, the only blood in the sleeping chamber was brought in by him. His footsteps left a red trail that marked his path as he half-walked, half-staggered toward the bed in the far corner. The curtains were drawn, a velvet fabric of purple that matched the rest of the bedroom and sitting room it was adjoined to. He had seen it before, had been in the room numerous times and watched his lady pull a thick brush through her unbound dark hair, or braid it into a loose coil to pin up. If she were feeling especially playful or daring, she'd brush his hair, or tug it back into a girlish braid and tease him over it. _

_He would remark on the lavish style of her bed, of the matching quilts and skins that covered it with a raised eyebrow and a wicked grin. And she would smile and chastise him, and he would know deep inside of him that soon he would be able to sleep beneath a velvet lined sky with a woman he desired more than anything else in his arms._

_The memory was fresh in his thoughts, her voice a clear bell that rang out at the first reminder of her. The room brought back many such memories, and he fought to push them down and away. Such recollections at time like this could be very dangerous. This was the last place he hadn't looked, and his fingers clenched the curtains, leaving a dark wet trail. His body, unwilling to remain still, wrestled with a mind afraid of what it might find._

_Sucking in a deep breath, he tore the curtains back. His heart froze, his breath left him in a rush, and deep inside of him he felt his magic groan. _

Kenshin sat up quickly, his sweat soaked body shaking as he tried to push away the nightmare. His body was tense, muscles clenched from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. In the dark room his frame heaved and his stomach twisted violently. Muscles involuntarily contracted, creating a stiffness he knew would last for hours. The smell and taste of blood coated his throat, mouth and nose, and every time his eyes closed the picture of what lay behind the curtain flashed and taunted him. Trying to blink away the image, the picture only further solidified- colors and textures exploding into vivid detail. A wheezing gurgling noise filled his ears, and the sound knocked him over the edge. Sensing that he had lost the battle for control, he pushed himself up and walked quickly to the bathroom down the hall.

Although the air was cool, Kenshin didn't bother to throw on a top and instead exited wearing only pajama pants. He didn't turn on the hall light either as he moved over the chilled hardwood floors and past another bedroom. He didn't want to bother his guardian, who he could hear snoring through the heavy wooden door. The man had gotten home late again last night, burping and hiccupping from the activities he'd been participating in. He'd checked in on his nephew before stumbling away to sleep off the bulk of his drunkenness.

Entering the bathroom Kenshin quickly lost the fight with his churning stomach, and only when it was completely empty did it quiet. Swishing his mouth with water and then brushing his teeth, Kenshin remained in the darkened bathroom while his trembling hands began to quiet themselves. Splashing cold water on his face, he let his fingers rest on the sink, leaned forward, and looked into the mirror through his messy bangs. Even in the dark he could see the goose-bumps on his skin.

Meeting his own eyes, Kenshin wasn't surprised that they glowed dark amber and were rimmed with black. The reoccurring dream brought out his magic and fury like nothing else ever could. And now that it had happened there was no way he would be able to fall back asleep. The eyes though unsettled him. They made the nightmare all the more real, made him feel all the more frail. Feeling the tension running through his shoulders and arms, he loosened the vise-like grip he had on the sink and grabbed a towel to dry his face. It was rough, and he mercilessly scrubbed away the water and wetness that had gathered at the corners of his eyes. Putting the towel away, he grabbed a binder and pulled his long loose hair back and out of his face.

Stepping out of the room, he stopped abruptly at the person waiting outside of it for him.

"Took you long enough. Next time move a bit faster idiot."

His uncle wore pajamas with small ducks covering them, the pattern at odds with the tall built man they covered. His hair, dark and unbound, hung loosely around his face and shoulders in tangles, and the flush on his face was a telltale sign that he was still a bit more than tipsy. Kenshin nodded his head, knowing that any words would be met with a berating remark. His uncle watched him closely, his eyes squinting in an almost comical fashion as he examined him.

"Again?"

Kenshin didn't need to ask what his uncle was referring to. Hiko had the uncanny ability to read him at one look. It had infuriated him from the moment he'd been taken in by Hiko as a child. At that age he had been desperate to lie to his guardian about the silliest things- but he had never been able to escape homework, eating vegetables, or cleaning his room. At his age now he had other issues he wanted to keep private. Kenshin had grown used to his uncle's abilities and at eighteen he fought hard to hide his thoughts. His uncle though easily saw through him still, even after years of learning to place everything he felt behind a thick wall.

Hiko was indicating his awareness of a dream, specifically the nightmare that had transformed Kenshin into an insomniac for the last two years. And it angered Kenshin that his uncle felt the need to reference it. He gave a short nod, a conversation on the subject the one thing he did not want to have. That dream along with many others was private, and he would rather eat hot coals than talk about any of them. When they'd first started, Hiko had managed to drag out a few details here and there, but not any longer. He wasn't the confused boy he'd been, more than slightly afraid that he'd been going crazy.

His uncle said no more, as if he already knew exactly what Kenshin would admit and would not want to admit. The bathroom light flicked on, casting long shadows in the hall. Kenshin turned his head in an effort to protect his unadjusted eyes.

"You ruined the sink again. Make sure to fix it."

The door closed, and the cool darkness once more covered him. Shit. He'd messed up the sink again. If Hiko had any doubts as to how Kenshin was feeling, they would be cleared up by that stupid thing. He'd done it before, multiple times, his anger and distress after waking so strong that his magic had flared unintentionally. He was sure that there were deep grooves now where his fingers had clenched while he had tried to calm himself down. Kenshin would repair it later, as he'd had to do with other sinks, appliances, and furniture.

For now he moved back to his room at a slow pace, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. Looking at his rumpled bed, he easily dismissed the thought of attempting to go back to sleep. His eyes would close and the nightmare would return violently. It had happened enough times that he knew. Instead, Kenshin pulled out his desk chair and flipped on his computer and a lamp. He glanced out the window and took in the sight of a sleeping residential neighborhood. The buildings were strange, the view much different than the apartment they'd lived in for just over six months before. The desk though was familiar, and Kenshin ran his fingers over the heavily scarred wood as his computer finished starting.

He was glad for the move, most of his life he had spent traveling with his uncle from place to place. Hiko, whose job with some high end electronics company even Kenshin didn't understand, transferred from branch to branch with as much ease as a mouse moving from crumb to crumb.

Kenshin couldn't even count how many beds he'd slept in, or how many schools he'd gone to. In his youth he hadn't known why his uncle kept picking them up and traveling, but now he was glad and hopeful every time his address was altered. And for some reason this city felt different. It felt _right_ to his magic, and the thought was welcomed with every fiber of his being. They'd moved in less then a week ago, and boxes were stacked in the corners and closets of the rooms, his own room containing several that were filled with clothes, books, cds, and other miscellaneous items.

But the sensation that had filled him when they'd driven into the mid-west town was one that had crawled underneath his skin. His magic had strained inside of him as if reaching for something it knew was very close but just out of reach. It had shivered and with reluctance calmed down after Kenshin had soothed it. Optimism had infused him, and for several nights he'd slept better than he had in years.

He'd dreamt of her, and the dreams had been without violence or pain. They were dreams in which she'd laughed, giggled, smiled, or cuddled up close to him. And it was those dreams that ruled him. Dreams in which she would appear. In his youth he'd been uncertain but fascinated by her. Now he knew the absolute truth. It had come to him at sixteen, when he was still fighting what was happening to him. Friendships had felt superficial, girlfriends had seemed shallow, and nothing had seemed to work. As he had struggled to train and understand his magic, he was sure that he had to be missing something. It had always seemed to be just of the corner of his eye, an understanding that would finally help him recognize his reason for living.

Hiko had watched him constantly, questioning him daily about what was happening in his life. His dreams had controlled his nights, and he had felt as if he were living two lives simultaneously. And then in a most unexpected way it had all been made clear to him. He'd learned the truth, and Hiko had cleared away the remaining cobwebs. She was real, and somewhere out there she lived.

Just the thought made his body tighten.

At eighteen he felt much older, and other people his own age often made his lip want to curl in disgust. Each school was a joke, the professors and students stuck in a cycle of gossiping and ridiculing. He also felt no need to make lasting friendships; he was already preprogrammed in so many ways that trying would be futile. He hadn't met anyone yet that he'd desired to befriend. Girls would pursue him, and he'd easily dismiss them. They were immature and paled in comparison with the one he wanted. Their actions were often self-centered and without shame.

Without effort he could call to mind the image of _her_ face, the feeling of _her_ hair, the sound of _her_ laugh. There wasn't any way that she was a figure of his imagination, and he couldn't possibly want anyone else.

Kenshin knew of course that she wasn't the same. Just as he had changed, so too would she have. But that didn't matter to him. She still owned his heart; he was still willingly chained to her. If he truly concentrated, a magic part of him deep inside would resonate with her aura. It was an after effect from before, something that the last him had been unaware of creating. Searching for that relationship however took time, energy, and was very dangerous. It was after long months of fruitless searching for her physically that he'd even looked for the link at all.

He'd found it, a thread deep inside of him that was a soft blue threaded with silver. It had lain docile, but he had sensed the energy thrumming through it. The power of the link he'd established in a moment of madness and overwhelming grief. To touch it would have been too risky, but the temptation had been almost more than he could bear. He'd withdrawn, convinced of her existence, their bond, and his purpose. Unfortunately, the investigation had put Kenshin in the hospital with exhaustion and earned him a long lecture from his uncle.

He'd been forced to promise not to attempt the search again unless it was crucial. And after the last of his memories had returned from that time…he'd been even more frantic to find her. Hiko was willing to put back together the pieces that had refused to fit. He wouldn't explain his reasons, but Kenshin cared little. Their own relationship had been similar in the past, and even the other him had never understood his mentor. As long as he could see her again he wasn't concerned with Hiko's motives. And every school that he'd transferred to, he'd looked for her, every mall, gas station, and sporting event he'd attended he'd watched.

Kenshin was sure that any day she would appear. His magic sang of it. This was the place that she would reside.

Checking his email and paying some of his bills online, Kenshin glanced at the clock and willed time to pass faster. It was just after three o'clock, and he needed to kill at least another hour or two. Putting on some soft instrumental music, he pulled out a sketchpad he had stuffed beneath some old text books and opened to a fresh page. Stacked in one of his boxes were similar books, filled to the brim with detailed drawings. His pencil tapped against the blank page, Kenshin's mind sifting through images that floated behind his eyes.

It was sort of funny to him that he had any artistic ability. He'd wondered more than once if his other self had been artistically inclined. Kenshin had never had the chance to find out. Now he quickly sketched in an effort to expel the negative energy that still clung to him.

Her eyes came out first, heavily lidded and tilted in a sultry fashion. She'd only looked at him in that way several times during their short period together, but he could recall each detail perfectly. She'd wanted him, as much as he had desired her, but she was aware of her position- both socially and magically. She needed to maintain her reputation, and he'd respected and agreed with her decision. Now, he let himself draw her as he'd always wanted to see her. Her face was next, followed by a body that reclined seductively on a large blanket. Kenshin pieced the image together as he drew it, the clothing and her shape drawn from memory. He'd never seen her in the exact pose though, resting with her nightgown riding high on her hip and slipping off one shoulder.

She was still sweet looking, that touch of spirit and innocence that had intrigued him so greatly still a part of her. But with more skin than he'd usually see on her exposed, it also made his blood boil. Taking his time to fill in her long dark hair, unbound like he'd always liked seeing it, he let the early morning hours pass in a quiet lull.

When he finally let his pencil fall, a perfect likeness of his lady stared back at him in an obvious effort to seduce. And had she been real, her goal would have been easily accomplished. Letting himself examine the drawing more closely, he shut his eyes before pushing it away.

What was he thinking?

Sketching her was a bad idea. It never stopped him from doing it of course, but though it improved his disposition it equally made the hole in his heart ache. Because the truth was, there was always a chance that she wouldn't want him anymore. That her memories hadn't transferred…or worse, that she would blame him for everything that had happened. He felt himself hunch forward, his hand automatically clenching.

And she would have every right to. He wanted her to remember their relationship, but dreaded it at the same time.

Shoving his chair roughly back, he stumbled out of his room and into the bathroom again. It was too early for such thoughts. Enough time had passed that the sun had started to slide into the sky, pushing back shadows as it approached. He flipped on the overhead light, ignoring the dented sink as he reached over and turned the shower on.

The water was hot enough that it created a thick curtain of steam almost instantly. Sliding out of his pants and tugging his hair free, Kenshin ran his fingers through the loose strands. His hair was another interesting note. Although there had been few mirrors from before, he had known from seeing Hiko that he probably looked similar. His hair however, which had been a rich brown was now a blood red. He wondered if he'd been responsible for so much blood shed that it had been impossible to escape. He didn't really care most of the time, but the constant reminder of his past violence did become frustrating. He shrugged away the thought as he tossed his pants into the hamper. After all, he didn't really care about any physical changes.

Stepping into the shower, he stayed beneath the burning water and let the heavy droplets roll over his skin. His hair hung in wet tendrils, obscuring his eyesight and lying loosely on his shoulders. He stayed in there for as long as he could handle the heat, wanting to waste as much time as possible.

Kenshin dressed quickly for school, throwing on one of the uniforms he'd purchased. This wasn't the first school he'd gone to that had such rules, but he had to admit that the dress code was ridiculous. The black pants were paired with a white button up and black shoes. Embroidered on the pale yellow vest that went over the shirt was the school's crest. He fiddled with the black tie, leaving it loose, thankful that his red hair didn't clash too much with the yellow. He automatically pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, hating the way the cotton restricted his forearms. Pulling his hair up as he stepped out of his room and walked toward the kitchen, he left the damp strands in a high ponytail.

The kitchen was in complete disorder, boxes stacked on the counters, table, and chairs. The sun shown brightly through the curtain free windows and he maneuvered around the islands of half-unpacked dishes, utensils, and appliances. Kenshin had already unpacked the one item that truly counted; it had been the last thing he'd packed away and the first thing he'd pulled free from tissue paper and cardboard. Now he flipped on the coffee-maker, eager to smell the warm aroma of the freshly brewed drink.

He rummaged through the pantry while the coffee-maker softly dripped in the background. Downing a piece of toast after slathering it with jam from the fridge, he poured out a cup of coffee. Kenshin sipped at it quickly, letting the unsweetened liquid burn his tongue. Knowing that Hiko would probably be up in another couple of hours, he reset the timer so that his uncle wouldn't inadvertently break it while trying to start it. His uncle was constantly doing those sorts of things. After he'd broken four vacuum cleaners, three stoves, and two microwaves, Hiko had officially handed over duties that involved household skill to Kenshin. And considering that Kenshin had a flare for it, and was tired of trying to find replacements, he accepted the job with little fuss.

Draining the last bit of coffee, he washed the cup and grabbed at his bag. Stepping out of the front door, he was surprised at the coolness that still hung in the air. He was used to the heat, having just moved from Los Angeles, but liked the chilliness. It pushed away any exhaustion that remained in his body, and made the sun's early morning appearance not hot or humid.

Thankful that he lived within walking distance from the school, he let himself walk at an easy pace in the direction he knew the building lay. Because he was starting out still rather early, Kenshin was able to watch the neighborhood wake-up as he went. Birds chirped and sang out, trees lazily shook with the breeze, and a few other people were out walking, running, or doing some sort of errand.

Kenshin eyed a bright red house with matching blue trim. He liked the homes in this area. There was something about them that was quaint, cute, and appealed to his sense of what a town should look like. The town was smaller, and as such, the homes seemed to fit into the 'small town' cookie cutter cuteness. It seemed as if he had stumbled into on old movie, and he was waiting for a perfect family of four, plus their lovable dog, to emerge out of one of the houses. It was a silly notion, but it endeared the place to him all the more.

He already was aware of the location of the grocery store, and knew that stopping there after school was imperative. They had driven by it on their first day in town, and although the store was frightfully small and the only one in town, it seemed it would have what they needed. And if it was lacking in some of the specialty foods he wanted, a larger town was only a forty-five minute drive away. The items the two of them had in their fridge at the moment consisted of booze, half a cartoon of eggs, jam, and a box of baking soda. It was enough to make him cringe. Kenshin had admitted to himself long ago that he loved cooking. More than any of his other hobbies, cooking came perfectly natural to him. From the time he'd been tall enough to reach a stove he'd been mixing, baking, chopping, frying, and creating all of his own meals.

Like drawing, it was another new trait that he often wondered about. Had he always had it and never known? It was true that he had sometimes put together small meals for when he and his lady would go out, but it was nothing like what he did now. In the past he'd never felt such a drive to create. Was this trait a new thing, or a result of what had happened, or something else entirely? It was annoying that there were still so many things he didn't understand about what had happened.

But all of that didn't matter. None of it factored into what he knew needed to be done. He pushed the doubts out of his head, and walked more quickly. He would get to school early, and wait outside for the other students. He would watch them, and maybe, just maybe, today would be his today. It was a long shot, and he acknowledged it as such, but that didn't stop the adrenaline that suddenly pumped through his veins.

He wanted to see her.

* * *

AN: Thank you all for reading! Reviews are of course appreciated!

Next Time: We meet a pair of unlikely siblings, and Kenshin is simply known as the 'new kid.'

* * *


	2. Sibling Devotion

AN: Alright, I'm not dead. Life has been CRAZY. I graduated, moved, got a job, and a whole lot of other stuff happened. (Most of it annoying and stressful) Working on everything, but it may be a little bit more time for anything else. Thanks for the support, I really appreciate it! And, to be honest, this chapter was a little difficult for me. And the reason should become clear once you start it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Two

Sibling Devotion

* * *

Soujiro idly flipped through his math textbook, swinging his legs back and forth as he did so. Perched on top of his sister's desk, he barely took in the pages, instead listening to the students meandering through the halls. They chattered and complained as they walked by, each rubbing at their eyes and discussing the abrupt end to the weekend. Ten minutes before class would begin, and the halls were full of babbling teenagers in matching uniforms. Lockers slammed, laughter drifted, and Soujiro hummed softly under his breath.

He'd grown up in this town and nearly all the voices he heard he could put a face and name to. A sharp nasally voice sounded and he knew without a doubt that it was Melinda, a bleach blonde bitch who had stolen his sister's stuffed cat in the third grade. A male ran by the open classroom doorway and he recognized Chip, the sophomore class's representative. The kid was denser than a rock, and had a brain the size of a walnut. Straightening his tie, Soujiro ran a hand through his hair and stretched his arms over his head. Glancing out the window behind him, he shut the textbook and gave up even the pretense of studying.

His sister had even warned him well in advance that he should look over his notes. He had nodded and said he would try, but even he could acknowledge that the attempt was a poor one. Soujiro didn't really need to study, but he wouldn't tell his sister that. She tended to ignore the fact that test taking was relatively easy for him. Even if it was Satan administering the exam.

Ms. Mandrel, the math teacher, always asked the most ridiculous questions. He could tell that she enjoyed stumping her students, took pleasure in making them squirm and fret. She was a vindictive lady that seemed to have something against anyone under the age of thirty. And with her frumpy grandma-sweaters and graying hair, he didn't blame her for hating his image obsessed peers.

His sister had managed to get Mr. Johnstone for her college algebra class, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. The man showed a film twice a week for God's sake. He could have caught up on his napping while a video more appropriate for someone half his age showed. His sister sure as hell did.

Soujiro cocked his head to the side as a locker slammed. No, the slam wasn't right. With all the stuff crammed inside there was an audible crunch whenever she shut her locker. Although he had walked with his sister to school, she had needed to take a detour to the administrative office and they had parted near the entryway. Their mother had changed their emergency contact information (again) and the school needed to be notified. The two of them had flipped a coin and like always, she'd lost. She'd shaken her fist, stuck out her tongue, and cursed him out under her breath as she'd walked away. He'd stifled a laugh and waved mockingly.

In the last year his sister had had to go to the office four times because of their mother's antics. He rolled his eyes at the thought of the woman. If she would just stop being so picky, it would save everyone in their family a lot of time and energy. Every time she decided on who would be notified in the event of an emergency, she almost immediately decided that they wouldn't work. They wouldn't be there for 'her babies' like they should. It made him cringe internally. At seventeen, he didn't consider himself an infant. Not that he'd ever tell his mother that.

Still humming, he inwardly rolled his eyes at the thought of his mother. She could be indecisive to a fault, then as hard-headed on the next issue as a bull. He was glad that neither his sister nor him had been cursed with such a wishy-washy attitude. She changed lawyers, cars, and jobs like most would clothing. Her hair had been bobbed, permed, and braided in just the last six months. He wasn't even sure how his father put up with her. Hell, at times he wondered if her devotion to his father was the only thing that remained constant. She even went through love/hate phases with her own children. It made his jaw ache. It wasn't that he didn't care for his mother, even though she wore bright make-up and low cut tops, her actions though were simply so we-

"Soujiro!"

He shook his head to clear away the straying thoughts. It wasn't often that he was so easily distracted. In fact, he prided himself on his focus. It was frustrating to find himself turning into a scatterbrain like his sister.

"Geez are you even listening?"

His sister stood in front of him, hands on her hips and scowling. Her hair, pulled haphazardly back, fell in a dark wave over her shoulder. She gave it a disgruntled flick, and tugged at her uniform while she waited for him to respond. He stopped his humming, and let a wide smile cross his face. She hated the girls' uniform, and was constantly trying to lengthen the skirt through sheer will power.

Hopping down from the desk, he eyed her with a level gaze. With him only topping her by an inch, the two of them were nearly eye level with each other. He tilted his head to the side, knowing how much she hated even that inch of difference. She saw competition in even the most minor things. However, despite his slight advantage, the two of them were shaped remarkably similar. Soujiro was slighter and smaller than the average manly-man, and his sister was slim and boyish. He supposed their similarities were even more enhanced because they were twins. From the shape of their eyes to the tilts of their chins, anyone who looked at the two together could easily see that they were related.

"Misao."

She turned her blue green eyes to him and grabbed up the errant math book, pushing it into Soujiro's opened backpack. There was no reason to keep it out anymore. They both know that he wasn't truly studying. His own eyes, the same shade as his sister's, flickered across her clearly disgruntled features.

"Don't you _Misao_ me! And stop it with the creepy smile!"

He saw her hand rising but didn't move to stop it. She playfully smacked him across the back of his head. Soujiro felt his smile droop into what he knew she found a more comfortable expression. Misao was one of the few people he'd make an effort for, even if he didn't like to admit it.

"Whenever you make that face I feel like my brother has turned into a freaking doll or something!"

'That face' was a term she'd started applying to him only a few months ago. And from its appearance, it was obvious that she wasn't comfortable with it. Numbness often came with it, washing out colors and making him feel oddly detached. He hadn't been a particularly 'smiley' child, but now he couldn't seem to stop smiling. Misao hated it.

"Look," Misao leaned in conspiratorially, changing the subject, "I need your help."

She wiggled her eyebrows and he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He let himself go still. She couldn't possibly be asking what he thought she was asking. Just the thought of it was ludicrous. They were always careful about when and where they did it. One wrong action could lead to not only disaster, but unanswerable questions. Not only that, but if their father found out, the two of them would be in a ridiculous amount of trouble. He was smart enough to know that Father would be less then lenient. And in an empty classroom before school? No fucking way.

He could tell that she was gauging his reaction.

"I know, I know." Misao took a seat on the desk and he slid up next to her. She leaned forward into her classic distressed pose. "I forgot Mr. Smithbret's project on my desk."

Her voice was miserable, and Soujiro knew exactly why. Misao was struggling in the advanced French class, and Mr. Smithbret seemed to have it out for her. She was constantly docked points and was struggling to simply pass the class. 'The Project' was a fifteen page essay in French that she had been working on for weeks. She had been determined to wow the teacher, to rub a good paper in his face, and Soujiro knew that she'd pulled several all-nighters in an attempt to make it perfect. He'd helped her edit it, and could say that it was an exceptionally well written piece of work.

"I thought it was due tomorrow?" And if he remembered correctly, it was.

Her voice dropped and got a little scratchy. She was trying to stay calm, but he was sure that she was stuck between the urge to scream or cry. Her legs kicked back and forth in agitation.

"It was, he sent out an email this morning asking the class to bring them in." She let her head rest on his shoulder, "Some sort of scheduling mistake he says. But I didn't check my email until I got here."

He felt the corners of his mouth turn down slightly. Although Soujiro really wanted to smile for some reason, he fought the urge. He glanced down at the top of her head, her dark hair tickling at his nose as he did so. Making his mind up quickly, he pulled one of her hands into his own.

"Just this once, okay?" His voice was still level, but he'd hushed it to a whisper, "And father and mother can't know."

She pulled away slightly then, glancing up with a disgruntled expression.

"Well, duh. You know me better than that. I can guess what father would say, and I know that mother would tell father."

Misao rolled her eyes, and Soujiro watched her look at their intertwined hands. She didn't thank him for agreeing to do it, but he didn't expect her to. The two of them leaned on each other, and Soujiro knew that if he had needed her to do it- she would have without question. It was something beyond a normal sibling connection he supposed; it was if he was literally a part of her. At school they kept their closeness private, neither wanted to deal with the other children's cutting remarks. It still happened occasionally, a raised eyebrow or obscene phrase. Most ended up with a black eye or broken nose. Both siblings weren't against using violence.

He pushed himself up and started across the room, pulling her along as he traveled. She followed without complaint. The two of them had to find a place that was more secluded than an empty classroom minutes before class was about to start. Considering that this was already an awful idea, Soujiro was determined to do what he could to keep it from being incredibly stupid. Misao tended to rush in, and a level head was needed to keep their secret safe. Trudging down the hallway, he steered them around the loud students that crowded the junior hallways. The halls were harshly lit, and the overwhelming amount of yellow and black brought to mind a hive of bees.

Most of the students ignored them, or watched them briefly before turning their attention elsewhere. The noise was piercing, grating, and Soujiro automatically tuned them out. Although usually Misao would stop and chat with friends, she nodded but did not pause. It was a strong sign that she was frazzled.

A tall man walked by them, completely focused on something else, and her feet caught on the floor as her head swiveled to follow his movement. The man continued on his way, his tall height, dark jeans, and white T-shirt completely out of place. Older than the students, his dark hair hung heavily over his eyes as he moved to a particular locker. Soujiro fought the urge to twist his mouth in disgust over his sister's reaction. _That _obsession he simply did not understand.

"Kaoru must be sick." Misao's voice barely carried to his ears, and he had a feeling she was probably talking to herself and not to him. He silently agreed with her assessment. He didn't know the girl well, but was well aware that she missed class regularly.

Spotting a location that would be suitable, he quickly looked around, then pushed the door open and tugged Misao in after.

Walking past the grey lockers and a half undressed male track team, he didn't look back to see her reaction or hear their exclamations of surprise at the appearance of a female. He knew that she would have gotten an eyeful before looking away in embarrassment, and most of the males would dismiss it out of fear of bothering him. Soujiro was aware that he didn't have the best reputation among the other guys. Girls tended to see him as slightly feminine and approachable, but guys seemed to see something else entirely.

However, Soujiro was just as sure that right now Misao would be glancing back once the shock had worn off. She was curious to a fault. He almost wished that she would take an interest in one of their fellow high school students.

"Enjoying the view?" He asked casually, hearing her annoyed sigh at his words.

"Could you have at least warned me?" Her voice was caught between exasperation and aggravation.

Soujiro turned back towards her and took in her flushed cheeks. He wondered if the redness had been caused by the nearly naked men or the man from the hallway. The image of the man flashed in his mind, and he tried to push it firmly away. Now was simply not the time.

"Come on, we don't have much time."

Pulling her behind him, he tugged her into the handicapped stall. As he did so, he heard her make a noise of revulsion.

"Soujiro…this is disgusting."

Raising an eyebrow, Soujiro pulled the door shut, fastening the metal latch so that it would stay closed. Turning back to Misao, he watched her wrinkle her noise and hold herself as far as she could from both the toilet and the mint colored metal walls. It was true that the place wasn't exactly sanitary, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he tried not to smile at her expression.

"Let's hurry up."

He purposely drew her mind back to the matter at hand, knowing that she was easily distracted. Sure enough, his sister seemed to forget all about the filth they were standing in. She looked over her shoulder as if someone was scrunched behind her next to the toilet, and then whispered nervously,

"I don't know, maybe this is a bad idea." She twisted her hair in her hand, "If Father finds out he's going to be sooo angry."

Soujiro knew that he wouldn't just be angry. His sister had been lucky enough to never see their father truly worked up. But Misao had toiled over that stupid paper, and he wasn't going to let some vindictive asshole of a teacher ruin that out of petty spite.

"It's fine." He watched her go still. Soujiro had a feeling she was more nervous about forcing him to do something he didn't want to do. Father was a force to be reckoned with, but she was spoiled and often received more lenient punishments. With a nature that tended to be on the side of bullying, it was a sign of seriousness when she wasn't pressing for her way.

"Really?"

She watched him from beneath the heavy fall of her bangs.

"Do you want to be late for class? Or perhaps you were enjoying the view?"

He kept his voice light and teasing. She let out a huff of annoyance and grabbed at his right hand. Soujiro could hear her mumbling quietly as she did so, with words such as 'idiot' and 'freak'n paper' barely audible. Letting their palms connect, he shut his eyes.

Focusing on where their hands met, he felt a sizzle in the back of his chest. It flared up quickly, like it usually did, but Soujiro's heart still made a slight leap. Misao's heartbeat began to thud loudly in his ears, the sound so familiar that he scarcely noticed it. A slight humming started just under his skin, and he shivered at the tingling sensation. He had asked Misao once before how it felt to have so much magic just sitting inside of her without a way out, and she had shrugged and responded, 'I don't know, okay I guess.' If she experienced even a tenth of what he sensed when he had the ability to use the magic stored up in her, he would have gone crazy after only a few short hours.

"It's on your desk? You're sure?"

With his eyes closed, he didn't see her nod, but felt a thrum of annoyance from their link. On his brow he could feel sweat accumulate quickly, and he tried to mold the magic consciously as their father had taught him. Forming it quickly into a pattern that would do as he wished, Soujiro let the magic roll outwards from his skin in a sharp burst. Next to him, Misao leaned in closer, her body trembling slightly.

His other hand jerked as it reflexively clenched at the papers that appeared there. Slowly letting the magic go, he felt it drain from him and reenter Misao. She didn't react to the energy, but continued to rest against him and gather her bearings. He waited until she stiffened and stood up, shaking her head. Her eyes were bright and goose bumps had appeared on her arms. With their hands still connected, he could feel her through their link, her relief at him agreeing and the slight thrill in doing something she shouldn't. He dropped her hand and the feelings drained.

Instantly his body ached, yearned, he could feel it straining for the magic that lived in her veins. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling, and smiled.

He offered her the papers and she grabbed them. Flipping through them, the grin on her face exploded.

"Yes, Yes, Yes!" She half shouted. Throwing her arms around Soujiro she jumped up and down in excitement.

A bell sounded and she stopped.

"Shit, I'm going to be late." She turned from him and fiddled with the lock, "After school?"

He nodded. She had driven them to school and was clearly curious to know if he still needed a ride back. It was true that he often took to wandering after class, but today he needed to be home incase his father figured out what the two of them had done. Someone had to take the brunt of that man's anger, and he would rather it wasn't his sister. Misao rushed out, racing from the locker room as if the devil were at her heels. He hoped she made it to class; Mr. Smithbret awarded those who were late with detentions and belittling comments. Soujiro didn't want to have to wait for her, nor did he want to hear her bitch about the tongue lashing she'd received.

He exited at a slower pace, idly passing by those who were now changing for gym.

"Hey," the voice that called out was instantly recognizable. Soujiro turned and raised an eyebrow, his grin spread.

"Yes, Cole?" the tall sophomore was new to the school and had quickly secured himself a place on the football team. Wide in the shoulders and with a constant half-stoned expression on his face, the kid had rubbed Soujiro the wrong way from their first meeting.

"That was your sister, right?" He slid a shirt over his head, "What were the two of you doing in there?" Cole smirked, "She seemed awfully _happy_."

Soujiro stopped at the words and was aware that all the other students had frozen too. Most people had learned early on to leave the two of them alone. In fact, students knew that while Misao would knock a person around for a rude comment, Soujiro wouldn't hesitate to really hurt someone.

Around him most people filed out for class, a few of them hesitating by the door and darting a quick glance back. Unlike most arguments that drew crowds, Soujiro knew that those who messed with him often were soon deserted. He watched them go with a slight smile once more on his face, and paused briefly at the last person who stepped past him.

The kid was obviously new, only a couple of inches taller and with hair like blood. Wearing the school uniform, he followed another kid who was clearly trying to show him around. He eyed Soujiro oddly, and Soujiro felt his body inadvertently tense. The red head only paused for a moment before walking on, but Soujiro could feel the new kid's eyes on him and it made his smile freeze. That kid… something about that kid really bothered him. He'd have to ask his sister later if she knew anything about the new guy, but for now he had more important things to focus on.

He turned back to Cole, who watched the exiting students with confusion. Idiot didn't have any idea that he'd stumbled into the lion's den. More fool him.

"Cole," Soujiro spoke in a light tone, "I'll only say this once. If I hear you say something like that again, something bad may happen."

He made a tsking noise like that for a small child and watched the bumbling idiot's face grow red. Soujiro glanced at the watch on his wrist, he couldn't be more than five minutes late for class or Ms. Mandrel would send a note home. His mother would tell his father about it, and that was something he'd rather avoid.

Though Cole didn't look particularly comfortable, he laughed aloud at Soujiro's words and took an aggressive step forward.

"You stupid shit. You think you're so cool with your big shot dad and your big shot house." The words were spit out.

"This is the last warning you'll get." He unbuttoned his cuffs and started to roll them up. No way would Cole listen. They never did. He saw the surface, two spoiled siblings who had a 'nice family' a 'nice car' and were 'good students.'

"Whatever, she's not that hot but if you wanna fuck your sis-"

The boy didn't get the chance to finish his words. In fact, for the next few minutes he didn't say much of anything. He made a few blubbering noises, which Soujiro had expected, before making a noise similar to that of a squealing pig. The sound of flesh meeting flesh stopped abruptly. Cole hadn't even bothered to try and defend himself, had been too slow to do much of anything really. His nose was broken and Soujiro guessed that some of his ribs were cracked as well.

Soujiro turned away and walked over to a nearby sink. Quickly washing his hands, he looked in the mirror at the boy that lay stunned against a far locker. The kid's face was a sickly white color and blood covered his shirt and face in blotches.

"You'll tell the nurse you slipped and we won't have to have another discussion, okay?" Soujiro smiled widely and watched Cole tremble for a moment before nodding.

Humming again, Soujiro exited the locker room and checked his watch. He had two minutes to spare.

* * *

AN: What's that? You want to review? Feel free!


End file.
